A/N: Okay first, this story will NOT be a romance story.
Although there will be some sprinkles of romance, it is definitely definitely DEFINITELY not the main focus, and this fic is more action, adventure, suspense-- you know, the good old super hero-villain tales-- good versus evil!
Warnings I do have are: expect there to be a bit of bad language every now and then in this fic. Sorry, but bad guys tend to have potty mouths. Also, of course, violence. Lastly, this will get occasionally quite angsty and quite dark.
Oh yes, and this story will be in Buttercup's POV. So keep in mind the narrator is quite biased! O:
It's been several months since I've completed this fan fic, and about a year since I wrote these first few chapters. Personally, I dislike the pacing (not to mention the heavy ANGST) at the very beginning of this fic and I hope to re-write the beginning in the near future so it's uh.. better. But for now, new readers, just note that the writing improves in quality after the first 3 chapters or so haha. Oh, how I've grown. xD
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy the story.
The city of Townsville-- when was it going to learn to take care of itself? I was so sick of saving the same people who hated me. I was so sick of watching the policemen of the city just sit back on their fat, lazy asses and watch my sisters and I do all the work. And for what? Nothing. No, our only reward was this supposed "good feeling" that was supposed to fill our hearts. Only my heart felt nothing. The only good feeling I had was when I won. My sisters were into crime fighting for the greater good; I fought crime for the sport of it. I loved the battle. I loved the power. Townsville? I hated Townsville.
Its citizens were such idiots. Not to mention that they ignored me. Even though I saved their lives, they ignored me. My sisters were celebrated in a glorified spotlight each and everyday. Our home received flowers, 'thank you' notes, baked goods, hundreds of teddy bears and other care packages, all addressed to Bubbles and Blossom. Were there any for Buttercup? No. Why? It was simple. Bubbles and Blossom were beautiful girls; blessed with all sorts of good looks and special talents. They were the perfect little angels the Professor had set out to create. They graced the covers of endless teen magazines. When Blossom got a new haircut, the media seemed to know. Bubbles had her own fashion line of clothing.
Me? I was awkward. I was weird. There was nothing special about me except this hideous scar I received when I was eleven. That's when things got bad. Ever since I got that scar, it seemed my appeal to the citizens of Townsville began dropping lower and lower until I was considered nothing. I was ugly, and I was scary. Can you believe that? A Powerpuff Girl… scary? But that's just what they called me. They called me a monster. I was no longer able to swoop down and carry a little girl to safety, in the midst of a battle, because once I sat that little girl down in a safe area she would scream: "Mommy! Mommy! The girl is scary! Help! She's scary! She's ugly, Mommy! It's a monster! Mommy, I'm scared!"
It wasn't whatever hideous, pus spewing and slime oozing beast I saved the child from. It was me. I was the ugly one. I was the monster. I was the one that gave them nightmares. Me.
My cursed scar. It could have all been prevented. Maybe I'd be a different person now at the age of fifteen. Maybe I'd actually be happy. Maybe if my no good sister hadn't left me behind to burn alive, I'd still have a chance.
We were eleven, and we got a call telling us that the Townsville Museum of Rare Artifacts has just been broken into. Apparently, some really rare and important vase had been stolen. We rushed to the scene as always.
When we got there, every wall in the place had giant holes burned into them. There was a large hole in the building's main entrance, but this was caused by a large pick-up truck that sat inside the building with the engine still running. When we inspected the smaller holes, we found a glowing green liquid along the perimeters of the man-made entrances. Bubbles swept some up with her finger and instantly screamed in pain. Blossom quickly took her hand and rushed her to a water fountain to wash the liquid off.
We looked at her finger and saw there was a small red mark left where the unknown liquid had touched.
"Be careful, Girls," Blossom warned, "This stuff is dangerous. Make sure not to get anymore in contact with your skin!"
Bubbles blew on her finger, gently. "Ow, ow, ow…."
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She nodded, soaking her finger tip with her saliva.
"According to the mayor," Blossom continued, staying focused on our mission as usual. "The thieves are still in here, collecting more rarities. Bubbles, you go that way!" Bubbles nodded and left in a flash of blue light. "Buttercup, you and I should check out this main area down here."
I nodded and we headed towards one of the large, glowing wall-cavities. Just as I went to fly through the hole, just ahead of Blossom, we found the thieves. I only had a fraction of a second to react, and it wasn't enough. All I had time for was to throw my hands up in front of my face, shielding most of the blow. One of the thieves carried a bucket full of the dangerous, acid-like substance that had burnt Bubbles' finger earlier. He gave me a face full of it, and pushed me out of the way, jumping into the pick-up truck with his buddy thief, and speeding away.
Like I said, my hands and arms blocked most of it, but I still had some of the scorching acid on the right side of my face. I could feel my eye-socket throbbing with pain, and I thought for sure my eye must have ignited into a ball of fire. The skin on my hands and arms felt like they were being peeled back, so slowly and excruciatingly. It felt as if quick, small incisions were made on each of my finger tips, and someone was just pulling the skin back further and further, whilst lighting it on fire all at once. I screamed. I screamed, and cried, and wailed and shouted for Blossom's help.
But the only thing I heard from Blossom was a loud gasp and: "They're getting away!"
I continued to cry and scream in pain for several minutes before I felt a splash of water hit me in the face. About half of the pain stopped, but it still burned, and I still screamed. "Hold on, Buttercup!" Bubbles yelled, "I'll be right back!" A few seconds of more agony, and then another splash to the face, and I was saved.
But not quite. It was several hours before I regained my sight. When I did, everything was still pretty blurry. It was painful to open my right eye, and it had a 'V' shaped wound running right through it. I could see that I no longer had finger nails, my hands as well as the first third of my arms were puffy and red, and oozing pus. The Professor treated my wounds, and said it would be a few days before I would grow most of my skin back.
He spent a long time, shining a small flashlight in my right eye the next few days, as my body healed. I stayed in bed and slept a lot. My face and hands still felt like they were on fire every now and again. So I forced myself to sleep. I had to wake up though when the Professor wanted to shine that damn light in my eye though. He wouldn't tell me what he was doing, even when I asked. He just said "Just checking things out, Honey," with an obviously fake smile, recording a bunch of chicken scratch down on a clipboard.
And then he finally told me on the fourth day. He brought a "friend" over, who was a doctor of some sorts. The short, bald creep shined lights in my eye for about an hour too.
"Sweetie, I have some bad news," Professor said to me after talking to his friend in private for a few minutes.
What could be worse? My hands were "healed" according to the Professor, yet they were still scarred and hideous and would remain so forever. My finger nails had grown back, but they refused to grow any longer than two measly centimeters. And then there was my face. With a squiggly 'V' shaped scar. The right stem of the 'V' stretched from the right side of my eye, down to just beside my mouth, and the left segment climbed up, across my eyelid, and just above my eyebrow. When I closed my right eye, it looked like a checkmark, branded on the side of my face, as if to tell the world "Fucking repulsive girl?! Check!"
"Buttercup, I'm afraid you've lost quite a bit of your sight in your right eye."
"How much?" I asked.
"About 60 percent, Dear."
I paused. "But I can see alright. I can see just fine! It's not like it was two days ago, Professor! Nothing's blurry anymore! "
"You've adjusted to it, Buttercup." He sighed and knelt down beside my bed, he cupped his hand over my right eye. "What's this say, Dear?"
He held up a paper with a series of letters and numbers. "A, G, H, twenty-four, R, sixteen, and Q. See? No problem!"
"Right," he frowned. "Now let's try this." He cupped his hand over my left eye, "Read the chart, Buttercup."
All I saw was a white blob with black smudgy marks. I couldn't read a thing. I pushed Professor's hand away in anger and frustration. I crossed my arms, and kept my gaze downward, hoping that the Professor wouldn't see that I was tearing up and ready to cry.
The Professor wrapped an arm around me, and brought me closer. I knew he was only trying to comfort me, but it made me feel worse. Being held like that only meant one thing: the news was going to get even worse.
"Will it get better?" I asked, even though, deep down, I already knew the answer.
"I'm afraid not, Sweetie." He paused for a while. "There's a big possibility that… it could get worse over time. I'm so sorry, Dear."
It was all Blossom's fault. Hers and the stupid Town's. They made me ugly. That very day I was scarred, I felt myself becoming uglier and uglier. Any love people had for me slowly diminished, and my hatred for everyone grew. After that day, my skin seemed less soft and fair. It was now rough like sandpaper. My hair grew stringy and greasy. My scars grew darker and more apparent. I tried to hide them by wearing a hoodie jacket, with the hood pulled tight around my face, and I kept my hands hidden in my long sleeves. My once outgoing nature quickly disappeared. I found myself keeping quiet, liking to be left alone rather than included in anything. When people looked at me, whether it was in kindness or disgust, I only saw their faces as reactions to my hideousness. If it was a smile, it was fake, and merely an attempt to show me pity. If it was a frown or a jaw dropped gaping stare, it was the obvious, "Woah, I can't believe how ugly she is."
Despite my super hero status, the kids at school treated me nastily. I was suddenly a monster in their eyes. There were rumors that I was infected with some deadly disease. Kids told stories about how at night, I turned into a scaly beast and fed on human blood. My best friend growing up was Mitch Mitchelson, and he turned around and became the ring leader of my peer harassment. I reached high school and the mocking was taken to an entirely different level. Before it was just stories and rumors, but now they were being mean straight to my face. My locker was the ideal prank spot. It was filled with everything from pudding to fish guts. When teachers and faculty were not in sight, kids who had figured out my weakness of sight in my right eye, would often surprise me with crumbed up paper wads, spit balls, text books, and various kinds of sticky food that could be tossed at the side of my face. They knew full well that I couldn't fight back, because I often couldn't tell who specifically attacked me. And if I did happen to know and fight back it would be me in trouble, not them. I don't know how I was surviving that first year of high school. It was almost over, but I didn't know if I could still hold on. It was just too hard.
Only one person still showed that she cared, and that was Bubbles. She would defend me, no matter what the situation was. When Blossom suggested that I should think about retiring from crime fighting because of my failing vision, Bubbles stuck up for me. When news reporters would ask my sisters, "What's the deal with Buttercup?" referring to my "weird" behavior, Blossom would answer something like "She's not very good with people. We're trying to get her to improve on that though!" But Bubbles would simply smile and say "Buttercup's great! She was the one who taught me how to skateboard, you know?"
Sweet, caring Bubbles. She was my only friend. Blossom and I never got along too well before my accident, but afterwards… we hardly spoke to each other. I'm sure she felt guilty for ignoring my cries for help that day, but her solution to ignore me was not right. I hated her for it. Frankly, I didn't care if she died the very next day in battle. That's how much I grew to despise her. She betrayed me for a fucking vase, and would she apologize? No. She could just die and I wouldn't give a damn. Everyone and everything on the planet could just drop out of existence and I wouldn't care. As long as I had Bubbles, then I was able to hold on to that last string of happiness in my life.
I never expected the bond between Bubbles and I to ever be broken. But of course, I never expected to be shunned as a monster either.
One night, Bubbles and I were home alone. I played some video games, while she quietly sat behind me, brushing my hair. I don't know why she liked playing with my hair so much. It was greasy, and thin, riddled with dandruff and it got a terrible smell to it when I sweat too much. Still, she brushed my hair all the time, while she talked about her day at school and how much she enjoyed History class because the teacher sounded like Kermit the frog.
I wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying that night, not until she said it: "Then at lunch something really cool happened. I was just talking with Jessica about my skirt 'cause she wanted to know where I got it from, and that boy Henry came over and asked me out! I was so happy, because I'd seen him before and I really thought he seemed--"
"What?!" I exclaimed, throwing my game controller to the ground. I turned around and stared at her.
She stared back at me, with big, surprised eyes. "What?" she blinked.
"You're going to go out with a boy?!"
"Yeah, his name is Henry--"
"You can't do that!"
"Why not?" she squeaked, recoiling away from me a little.
"Because!" I shouted. "Then you'll spend all your time with him! You won't be here anymore! At home where you should be! And then what?! What the hell am I supposed to do, huh?!"
"Buttercup, you can't tell me who I can and can't date!"
"Yes I can!" I yelled. I was desperate. She couldn't just leave me like that.
"No!" she protested.
I grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her violently. "YOU'RE NOT DATING ANY BOY! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I WILL NOT BE ABANDONED FOR SOME CHUMP LOSER!"
She cried loudly and pulled away from me. She flew upstairs and I chased after her. She retreated to her room and slammed the door shut just before I could reach it. I beat at the door screaming at the top of my lungs for the longest time, until I was out of breath. I had never felt so angry before in my life. I could hear Bubbles sobbing loudly on the other side of the door, and pleading for me to stop.
I left the house, searching for something to take all this anger out on. I left, planning to beat down a tree or abandoned building or something, but what I found was Mitch. Rather, he found me. There was a sudden slap on the right side of my face. I touched it and felt a sticky drink of some sort, probably soda. I looked and there he was laughing and running away, singing "Monster!" as he retreated.
Suddenly I found myself chasing him down. He ran into a dark alley and I had him cornered. "Hey, hey!" he said throwing up his hands, "It was just a joke! Now don't get crazy!"
I slowly made my way towards him. I felt a smirk slowly cross my face as I rolled up my sleeves. I punched him straight in the head and he went down, hitting the floor with such a force, his body buried itself about a foot into the ground. I punched his face again, and his head wedged itself another foot into the soil.
I pulled back my fist, ready to throw another blow, but held it there. My whole body shook furiously with anger. I breathed heavily and tried to focus my terrible vision in the dark. I could no longer see a face, but just a bloody mess. He didn't move at all. I stood up and took a step backwards, slowly letting my pulled back fist fall limply to my side. I stared for a while, trying to make sense of what I had just done.
And then it hit me. I killed him. I flew away quickly. I couldn't be seen there besides a dead body like that. I couldn't get caught. I flew home as fast as I could.
I spent a lot of time on the roof of my house, thinking about what I just did. I thought about how I seemed to have no control. It just happened. It felt so… natural. Before I knew it, there was a big grin on my face, and I was laughing.
I killed him. Good. He had it coming. I only wished that I could do it again. I dared anyone then to just try and stand in my way. I'd kill them too.
This was it. This was my fate. So I was a monster, huh? So be it! If that's what Townsville wanted to call me, then that's exactly what I would be . They called me a monster to mock me, but now I would make certain that they called me that out of fear.
Because that's what I was-- a monster. And monsters aren't to be laughed at.
They are the ones who laugh. They laugh at how you run. They laugh at how you cower and tremble before them. They laugh at you as you lie dead on the ground.
I was a monster.
And I laughed.